


malice aforethought

by lontradiction



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Background Canon Crush, Background Character Death, Corruption, Dubious Consent, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, Grooming, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Knives, M/M, Misuse of Beholding Powers, Murder as a Romantic Gesture, Praise Kink, Sex as a Substitute for Violence, Sex in the Blood of their Enemies, Sort Of, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Use of Good Boy, close enough, if we can call this romance?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-10
Updated: 2018-11-10
Packaged: 2019-08-21 09:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16573850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lontradiction/pseuds/lontradiction
Summary: Martin steps over a line he never meant to cross. Elias is there to greet him.





	malice aforethought

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alias (anafabula)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anafabula/gifts).



> Now under a new title!

In the moment, it is easy to move without thinking. Everything happens in the flash of a second passing, in the blink of an Eye. A hunter lunges, its cornered prey lashes out. It would be easy to say that things moved so quickly that Martin hadn’t realized what happened until it was over.

But Martin knew that wasn’t true. His eyes had caught the officer’s gun when she came in, the way her fingers gently tapped against the holster. He’d felt the Hunt rolling off her like a bloodstained mantle, but it wasn’t targeted towards Martin, not yet. He still looked for the lines of a stab vest under her coat. She hadn’t backed him up against the desk, not yet. But he’d still closed his fingers around the handle of Elias’s paper knife without even looking down to find it. And when she did advance on Martin for “obstructing justice,” he’d been the one to drive the blade up beneath her ribs. And, as she’d looked down in shock, he’d been the one to pull it out again, leaving the wound desperately sucking in something like a breath.

Three choices, made with care and forethought. He’d known exactly what was happening. There was no pretty lie to soothe his stuttering heart. Only the knowledge that she’d have done the same to Elias.

To Jon. He was doing this for Jon. She would have come for him too in the end. Everyone did. So he had to stop her.

The one thing he hadn’t taken into account was how far forward she’d been leaning. When her legs gave out under her gurgled curses, she fell against him and warm blood pumped straight through his sweater, running down his legs and soaking into the floor below. Crying out, he shoved her off and stumbled back, slapping a hand against his mouth. “Oh G-d,” he whispered into it. “Oh G-d.”

She was still convulsing, still trying to reach for him though her body wasn’t strong enough to hold itself up. She was still glaring at him, hate and hunger in her eyes, spitting out what could have been words if they weren’t drowning in her lungs. Quicker than he’d thought he could move, Martin snatched her fallen gun up out of her reach, his fingers fluttering all over every inch of it to find some sort of switch or slide or _something_ as he lightly squeezed the trigger. Her head shattered into a mess of bone and brains even as the recoil knocked him back towards the wall and his ears were ringing and there was _so much blood_ and it only pooled and sank and dripped away. Finally, she laid still.

Shaking, Martin reached up and pulled off his glasses. Tears dripped away from tracks met at his chin as he looked down, looking for any blemish on the lenses. There was nary a scratch nor drop of blood, yet he still reached for the hem of his sweater and rubbed it into the glass. When he returned them to his face, his vision was tinted crimson red.

The ringing started to fade away as he stared at her. His arms automatically wrapped around his knees, which forced him to realize he’d slid down the wall to sit. The room was so, so quiet.

Minutes passed. Or maybe it was seconds. Martin wasn’t sure. He laughed at himself; where was that when he’d needed it? The tiny giggle echoed back at him, and he fell silent.

He’d never realized how soft his trousers were. He rolled the fabric back and forth between his fingers, the tiny nubs of woven thread scraping against each other. It seemed so important. Rolling, rolling, rolling.

Her blood seemed to finally run low. He wasn’t sure if she’d spilled it all or if some still sat trapped in her veins. But it wasn’t spreading anymore.

Hearing the door click open didn’t shake Martin. He still stared straight at her, rolling the fabric back and forth. It wasn’t until someone stepped between them that he looked up.

“Martin,” Elias said, a tiny look of something that might be relief or satisfaction on his face. “Are you all right?”

He knew it was redundant. Elias knew the answer already. He always did. But Martin said, “No,” anyway.

Elias looked back at the woman body as he took off his jacket. “You did the right thing, Martin,” he said, kneeling to drape it over Martin’s shoulders. Martin hadn’t even known he was shivering until it stopped.

“Right?” Martin echoed, staring right through him.

He nodded. “Yes. This woman may have claimed to be a member of the police, but she was fired after one of our statements led to incontrovertible evidence that she’d killed humans out of the line of duty. Most would still call them monsters if they knew what was concealed under their skin, but the news stories just reported the number of dead. She knew me from a previous…” He glanced over at her again. “…incident, so I imagine she took it to be my direct responsibility. Most unfortunate.”

Martin scoffed at that, curling further into the coat. “Was she wrong?”

“What? In thinking my abilities or position were involved?” Elias looked both puzzled and affronted at the idea. “I didn’t need to get involved for this one. She simply wasn’t careful enough. Hunters just like to look for something to blame for their own shortcomings.”

“Well, she went looking in the wrong place,” Martin muttered, pointedly looking away from the scene.

“Apparently.” Martin could hear the smile in Elias’s voice, but he didn’t respond to that. It only seemed to encourage the man. Feeling a hand land upon his upper arm, though, was enough to draw his eyes back. Dark eyes bored into his, and he swallowed. “You continue to surprise me. I didn’t expect this from you so soon.”

“What,” Martin said, laughing bitterly, “you thought I’d murder someone eventually and just, I don’t know, hadn’t gotten around to it?”

“Your progress has been more rapid than you know,” Elias murmured. His hand slowly slid up to Martin’s cheek, and Martin hated that even now, covered in gore and looking at a man who was happy he’d killed someone and might want him to do it again, he leaned into Elias’s touch. “You could have let her go. Given her some faulty information to lead her on a goose chase across the country. But look at you. You eliminated the threat alone.”

Martin wanted to be disgusted. He wanted to protest that he shouldn’t have done it, _wouldn’t_ have done it before Elias had turned him into this. He wanted that little bit of praise not to warm his flash-frozen heart. But he didn’t, and it did. “She was going to hurt you.”

Elias smiled, sending Martin’s tongue tripping over itself to say, “And hurting you might kill the rest of the Institute staff, and even if it didn’t, she would have eventually come after Jon, or maybe even me, and I didn’t – “

Elias’s finger pressed against his lips, firm enough to shut him up. “Martin. It’s all right. You don’t have to justify or deny anything to me. Haven’t I told you that?”

Martin nods, shallowly enough to avoid the finger slipping off. Elias removes his hand anyway, and Martin finds his mouth dry even before he has the chance to open it again. “I – I know, but – “

“What, Martin?” Elias’s voice had turned sharp, but Martin didn’t feel any anger or threat from him. His eyes darted down to its source, but he found that looking at Elias’s lips didn’t really make the situation any better. “Are you going to tell me that you didn’t think there was another way? That you wish you hadn’t done it? We both know that’s not true.” He leaned closer in, tilting his head until he was almost whispering in his ear. “Do you need me to say it?”

“I – “ Martin breathed. Feeling every millimeter between him and Elias as he closed the distance, Martin fell to shivers. He tried to force it out of his voice, to summon up the tone of sarcasm that should have been there. “I – I want to hear it. Please, Elias. What do you see in me that I’m not saying?”

He caught a glimpse of Elias’s smile out of the corner of his eyes, pleased enough to bring a flush to Martin’s cheeks – or was that there before, and he’d only just noticed? “You wanted to protect people,” Elias said, quick and smooth and deep. “That much is true. But you weren’t thinking of Jon when you made the choice. When she asked you to tell her where I was, you didn’t think about the Archives, or your own skin. You thought about _me._ ”

Martin sucked in air, trying to hide how shallowly his lungs would stop. Elias continued uninterrupted, though not oblivious. “You thought about the conversations we had, when they had me behind bars. You thought about what I brought out in you. You thought about the moments since when you’ve looked at me and seen someone who knows you like no one else could. You thought about protecting _me_. And you killed for it.” A noise escaped Martin’s throat, though he wasn’t sure what to call it. “Now that you’ve done it once, it’s become an option, ready to be used again. And, deep down, under the pain and shock and the misguided longing for a you that doesn’t exist anymore, you know that you _will_ do it again. And it will be easier.” Elias pulled back, taking in Martin’s expression so entirely that he felt the gaze in the divot of his spine. “And you’ll _enjoy_ it.”

At first, Martin didn’t think to answer. _Heat_ crowded out the words in his thoughts, whispering of smooth skin under a woolen suit.

When that last sentence finally unlocked, though, it broke the haze. He bolted, not so focused on wheretoas just _away_. Pressing himself against the other wall as if he could force his back through and escape, Martin sputtered, “I – I wouldn’t. I _couldn’t._ I’m not – I’m not a killer. Not like that. I just want everyone to be safe and okay and it’s not okay. It’s never okay.” Elias’s chuckle pricked at the inside of Martin’s skin. The man hadn’t even turned to look at him and he could feel it. Eyes or not, he… “I’m not going to, Elias! Why would I ever find _this_ ,“ he swept his hand to gesture at the whole scene, “enjoyable? I’m not you!”

“Hardly,” Elias scoffed. “I don’t enjoy handling people _or_ dead bodies, as much as people like to accuse me of it. But you…”

“I _what_ , Elias?” Growling didn’t suit his voice much, but he hoped that it at least seemed appropriate.

Elias finally stood up, stepping over the ex-officer’s corpse as he crossed over to Martin. “You found a way to feel useful. You proved to yourself that you could take on the monsters that threatened us and win. That woman will never underestimate you again. This is something that you can do for Jon and I, something Jon, at least, _can’t_ do for himself. You kept us safe. You won’t go looking for enemies – _you’re_ not the Hunter in this room – but if someone threatens us like this again, which I know you’re aware is more of a when, you’ll enjoy making them suffer for it.” He stood right in front of Martin, smiling fondly. “You’ll be our guardian, Martin. Won’t you?”

Time stopped for a moment, awkwardly uncertain as Martin’s mind ran over every word. He imagined it, against his better judgment. What he’d do if another Stranger, Hunter, or flesh hive came for them. And when he pictured standing above them as their movements stilled, never to start again, something in him _purred._ The same part of him that lit up when Jon first started a new statement or when he managed to surprise Elias enough to impress him. If he could protect Jon and the force of unnatural fear that stood before him, even at the cost of his own life…

He’d do it.

Time shuddered back into its normal pace. He didn’t voice his thoughts. If Elias wanted to check, he would. “What are we going to do about… that?” he asked instead, pointing at the corpse in all its bloody glory.

Sparing only a short glance behind him, Elias said, “There’s a cleaning service downtown that specializes in these sorts of things. First, though, it seems I have something of a debt to repay.” Before Martin could ask what he meant, Elias made himself very clear. His hands found Martin’s cheeks again, resting between dried trails of blood as he leaned forward to capture Martin’s lips.

Martin gasped into him, eyelids fluttering. Ultimately, though, they stayed open – he wanted to record each moment of this, to _remember_. Looking into Elias’s eyes as best he could given their positions, Martin moved his lips against Elias’s until he could feel them fitting together like he was suddenly certain they were meant to. Elias nipped at him with a quiet hum of approval.

This was wrong. There was a corpse in the room. Someone _he’d_ killed, and here he was snogging his boss. But somehow, after everything, it really didn’t seem like that great of a sin to add to his list, especially when Elias stepped even closer to trap Martin against the wall. Delicious pressure pinned him down, but it wasn’t enough. He wrapped his arms around Elias, pulling him closer and closer in as Elias swiped his tongue into his mouth. He was a murderer. He was clinging to a murderer. But _fuck it felt so good_.

Maybe it ‘had been too long’ or maybe the months of visiting Elias in jail had _done_ something to him, but it took less than a minute to reduce him to whimpers. Elias pulled back from the kiss, chuckling deep in his throat. “I hadn’t realized you were so… amenable to this.” Martin could only nod, still catching his breath. His efforts were wasted when Elias took advantage of the pause to run his tongue over his ear. “I knew it was on your mind, but you really are a good boy aren’t you?”

Martin keened, grabbing Elias’s shirt collar and burying his face in it. “Y-you… Why?”

Elias must have taken pity on him, because that’s the only reason he could see for why Elias let him stay there, only wrapping his arms around Martin comfortingly and gently combing fingers through his hair. “Do you disagree with my assessment?”

“No, I – I just don’t understand,” Martin said, folding himself even further into Elias’s chest. “I-I–“

“- Are a loyal and useful assistant in a time when allies are frustratingly difficult to find,” Elias interrupted, twisting his hand in Martin’s hair to silence him. “I hardly need to remind you how few would show such devotion to _Jon_. You are unique in your utility. How can I call that anything other than good?”

Martin shivered, nodding into his collar. “O-okay. Th-Thank you.” Though the praise was still ringing in his head, loud as church bells, understanding cleared some of the warm haze of it from his mind. Looking down like he was, he could easily see how hard they both were. His tongue darted out unconsciously, wetting his lips. “C – Can I –“

“Yes, you may,” Elias said, the husky tone in his voice the first real sign of how affected he was. Martin wondered dumbly for a minute why Elias had answered before hearing the question before realizing that this was Elias and he’d already let go of Martin’s hair. Kneeling down, ignoring that the wet floor didn’t bother him the way it should have, he shakily opened the front of Elias’s trousers and freed his prick. He took it into his mouth, moaning at the taste and weight of it on his tongue.

Watching Elias’s face as he took his prick down to the root, Martin was rewarded with a hitch of breath and the momentary closing of Elias’s eyes. “Good boy,” Elias breathed, a smile spreading across his face and Martin whimpered. He ran his tongue up and down the full length, savoring the feeling of _fullness_ as Elias began to breathe faster. Martin wasn’t sure how long it had been before he felt Elias’s fingers wind through his hair again, but he certainly didn’t mind; the extra leverage just meant Elias was fucking him harder. He relaxed and let Elias set the pace, eyes rolling back at the waves of sensation. When he lost the focus needed to keep his hands around Elias’s hips, he let his hands fall to the blood below, feeling the thick stickiness of it on his fingers as he swallowed around Elias’s cock. When Elias groaned and spilled into him, Martin swallowed it without complaint (though part of him did wish he’d been able to taste it further up on his tongue). He kept licking and sucking until Elias pulled him off and had to hold back a whine at the loss.

“Thank you, Martin,” Elias said casually as he tucked himself away. Martin blinked up at him, still too fogged up to respond. All he could think of was the phantom sensations in his mouth and Elias’s words. _Good boy._

He wasn’t too fogged up to stand when Elias helped him up and pulled his back to his chest. “Look,” Elias whispered. “This is what you are capable of. This is what you can do. This is what you _will_ do, because you know what’s truly important and how to achieve it.” He pressed a kiss to Martin’s ear. “You’re useful. You’re good.”

Martin nodded, still too overwhelmed for words. He would defend them. He would keep them safe. He would be good.

“Good boy,” Elias said, and Martin could feel the smile on his face. “Now, don’t tell Jon. If he needs to know, he’ll ask. But we both know he won’t, don’t we?”

Another nod. He wouldn’t tell Jon. He could handle this by himself.

“Good boy.” Elias released him. “Now let’s get this cleaned up.” He went to turn away, but turned back and held up Martin’s dripping hand. “Though blood suits you more than I thought.”

Martin smiled.


End file.
